The Sense Saga
by mad-as-a-hatter42
Summary: The Joker has a job that needs doing. But he's an amazing criminal genius, he'll just employ a mad person to do it for him...but can even the Joker handle a group of mental OC assains? No warnings, just language.


**Hello, and welcome to The Sense Saga (or rather, the lack thereof)**

**Plotted and planned by mad-as-a-hatter42 (moi) and Evil Little Leprechaun. **

**Also uploaded by Evil Little Leprechaun**

**TeamDeanWinchester4Ever helped. Especially with the swearing and the more violent scenes. Oh yes, especially the swearing and the violent scenes.**

**Hat, Leprechaun and Obsessor are all OCs (not suspicious persons plotting to take over the world) and all other characters belong to DC comics. Me, myself and my good friend I take no claims for the latter (though one day The Joker and Harley WILL come up on Ebay... And I will be there to buy them, hehe...)**

**Enjoy.**

There was a heavy thud and a loud, ill-tempered, "OUCH!"

Hat looked up from the piece of floor that had captured her eyes half an hour earlier. Through the blackness she saw a pair of neon roller skates limply suspended in the air over by the locked cell door. Although obscured by darkness, she knew that the legs laced into them would be sporting black and white stripy leggings, that the body attatched to these legs would be wearing dungarees and have several ribbon and apple tattoos on its arms. Her hair would be pink and spiky like a punk and she would be wearing numerous necklaces of all different types and shapes. The rest of her would be as a random as a squirrel with its head on fire driving a bus.

To put it bluntly, she was odd. Extremely, totally and utterly odd.

How did Hat know all this, exactly?

Because the roller-skate-wearing anomaly was one of her friends and partners in crime - and whatever miscellanous task they undertook that occasionally happened to be legal.

"Obsessor, running into the door isn't going to make it open." Hat spoke up at last, in an exasperated and slightly patronising voice. But, of course, it would be to no avail.

"Fuck you," came the dejected reply.

Hat rolled her eyes and didn't bother to dignify her friend's foul-tongued retort with an answer. That would lead to the only kind of conversation that Obsessor knew how to engage in; an arguement.

"Obsessor," another voice, oddly cheerful and unfazed by their current situation - being locked in a 5x5 room with no windows and awaiting their fate - floated out of the gloom, "Maybe if the two of us ran at the door at the same time head first we could achieve something!"

"Yeah," came the scathing reply, " Sore fucking heads!"

There was a long silence; not because the other had, like Hat, decided not to dignify Obsessor's vulgarities with an answer. No, it was far more likely that the other had found an interesting particle of dust on the floor and was trying - unsuccessfully, of course - to move it using 'the Force'.

Finally Obsessor cracked.

"Oh what the hell, lets do it. Hat are you with us?"

"NO!" Hat rose her voice, trying futilely to convey how stupid an idea it was that they'd cooked up. "No! Absolutely no; no way, not a chance, and I'm no going to let you two do it either!"

Even as she was saying this, however, two large humanoid shapes in the darkness got up and rushed across the room as one…

BANG

"Shit. Fuck."

"..."

"I told you so!" Sigh. " Morons!"

The Joker strolled over to his 500 keg lead door. He was exceptionally proud of this door, with its shining steel-grey surface and perfectly formed hinges. He stopped and gazed at his creation, made to his exact demand... Nothing would even make a dent in it. That was 100% guarrenteed by the seller (never mind the fact that the clown had been holding a knife to said man's throat at the time).

Suddenly there was a loud, heavy bang. The Joker froze, cocking his head to listen.

Silence... The sound of rapid footsteps and then - BANG.

Repeat sequence.

The Joker's brow furrowed - just what was going on in there? - and fishing the set of keys out of his pocket, he began to unlock each lock on the door. He wans't worried about the occupants trying to ambush him. His clowns had checked and confiscated all forms of weaponry, and he himself had his reputation as well as a load of nice little tricks up his sleeve. Negotiations would be a piece of cake. What could three unarmed girls possibly do?

Famous last words. When the last lock was undone and he turned the handle, there was yet another loud, familiar bang - talk about timing - and the door burst open, knocking him backwards and depositing two brightly coloured objects onto him. One looked vaguely like a human wearing roller skates - although he couldn't be quite sure - but the other... Dear Lord.

He had never seen anything like it. Sure, there were plenty of people who liked to stand out from the crowd a bit; certainly there were people who enjoyed wearing multiple colors or custom-made outfits. But this... Thing, it didn't just stand out from the crowd; it leapt out of the crowd, grabbed you by the esophagus and throttled you into noticing its presence. It didn't just wear multiple colors; it looked like a living, walking, talking rainbow. Screw those packs of Skittles and their corny product line. This was the real deal.

And nothing it wore, matched. The jeans were the only ordinary item of clothing on it. A bright red T-shirt - that looked like it had been bought with about ten other identical T-shirts for $15 - with the scribbled, almost illegible black words ' Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how EPIC I am' that looked like permanent marker or some kind of black sharpie's handiwork covered the upper torso. Fingerless gloves, tangled with all kinds of bracelets, adorned the small, dexterous hands. Brown leather boots; the scuffed, rugged style you rode horseback with, not the fashionable, somewhat pretty kind, enclosed the feet. Black sunglasses shielded its eyes from view, creating an almost cool look to the sheer bizarrity of the rest of its attire.

And, lastly, the hat.

Why on earth would someone wear something like it?

Large, floppy, green with a thick orange stripe around the middle... The kind of hat little green men with pots of gold supposedly wore. Or people celebrating St. Patrick's day. Not people going about their respectable everyday lives. Not even criminals or vigilantes who wanted to add a bit of flair to their appearance were that fashion-dead. It was the hat that confirmed his suspicions, realising both his finest dreams and worst nightmares all at once.

He had, apparently, met Evil Little Leprechaun at last.

The thing in roller skates now confrimed its human identity by speaking in English.

"Lep we did it! We achieved what we aimed for!"

"What was that?" came the honest, curious reply.

"SORE FUCKING HEADS!" Obsssor shrieked. Leprechaun blinked; the Joker nearly jumped at the unjustified abuse to his eardrums.

Then he heard a muttered curse from inside the cell and turned to see Hat - the only one out of the trio with any sense - walking out with dignity. But he wasn't concentrating on this...

"MY DOOR! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DOOR? YOU'VE DENTED IT, I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL..." He spluttered; for once, words failed the agent of chaos.

"For fuck's sake mate, it's only a door." Obsessor, having sat up and rubbed her head until the headache was more bearable, regarded The Joker skeptically.

"I'm in total agreement, Obsessor." Hat spoke up coolly, her eyes never leaving the man before her. "And I wish to put forward my complaints about the amount of time you left us in there. If you wanted to employ us to assassinate someone, all you had to do was ask. We have a lot of free time on our hands, and cash is always preferable to letting Leprechaun and Obsessor attempt to rob banks." She pointed a conemptuous finger inside the cell for emphasis as she spoke.

"And another thing to keep in mind inside that crazy noggin' of yours; I wish to get myself and my colleagues on the map of criminal Gotham, so to speak, so if you could hurry up and give us our assignment we could get on, thank you very much."

The Joker said nothing still pointing wordlessly at the two rather disturbing head shaped dents in the door - how was it possible for the creators of such horrific atrocities to be not concussed, unconscious and bleeding? - trying to work out if this girl was for real. She wasn't particularly pretty, at least not at first glance; her nose was off-centre, and a bleeding heart tattoo was splayed across her prominant right cheekbone. She wore a long black leather trench coat, and had one blue strand running through her otherwise straight blond hair.

But the hat, Oh God what a hat! It was an amazing hat, a fantastic hat, a hat to end all hats, a hat…. (well, you get the picture)It was a red top hat with several patches here and there. It had a blue ribbon around its perimeter and playing cards carefully tucked into said ribbon. It also had random earrings located in and around the brim.

"What the -Where's Lep and Obsessor?" Asked Hat, breaking the uncomfortable silence in which the Joker had been staring at her and staring at the unoccupied patch of floor that had previously held her two companions.

"TIIIIIMMMMBEERRRR!"

There was a long, spinechilling mechanical groan, then an enormous crash that made both Hat and The Joker jump.

"MY DOOR!"

What appeared to have happened to the poor, innocent door was that Leprechaun had, being Leprechaun and thus perfectly excusable from all radical acts of random unnecessary crap she performed on a daily basis, unscrewed the perfectly formed hinges using a screwdriver she had got from God knows where. And Obsessor had then gleefully pushed it over.

"Well done guys!" said Hat cheerfully, swiftly decoding a rational explanation for their actions - after all, she'd had a lot of practice - and giving them the thumbs up. "Now he can't lock us back in!" She pointed accusingly at the Joker who was kneeling on the floor next to his beloved door opening and shutting his mouth, with no words coming out.

"Huh?" Leprechaun looked up with genuine puzzlement. Or as genuine as Leprechaun was capable of. " I just wanted the screws..." she held out a handful of shying sliver screws and laid them carefully in a specific pattern. With a slightly maniacal giggle she then swept a destructive hand over the work of art and made explosion sounds, then started humming and pelting them at the fallen door.

The Joker sweatdropped as he rose, with one last somewhat sad glance to the door. "... That doesn't make any sense..."


End file.
